The best part of

What a life

By Sydney Ernest Catt . 1974

1942

Time flies when one is having a good time. Soon, the war at home was big news to us. That was all it was, since we were well out of it. I could not but think that, with the training I had done at Kenley, I would have been of more use in England than having a gay time in Singapore. But it was not up to me to decide where I ought to be, so the only thing to do was to go on having a good time. It is a good thing we did know how disastrously this good time was going to end.

As time sped away, and the Japanese started to trample over mainland China, we continued to feel nice, snug and safe in this quiet corner of the world. But the Japs continued to creep lower and lower down the coast of Asia, until we began to sit up and take notice.

As the Japs moved into Indo-China and Siam, and began to build up their strength there, things began to look ominous. Yet there was a peculiar feeling that nothing would happen to us. The crippling of the American fleet at Pearl Harbour, with the bombing raid on Singapore without the slightest warning or declaration of war, dispelled all ideas that we were not going to be tangled up in things.

Things moved fast. Soon the Japs were landing on the north of the Malay Peninsula. I began to with Enid M. and the children were out of it.

We had no good fighter aircraft. A squadron of Hurricanes were hurried out, but these did not last long, and we were left with no fighter cover. The Japs had the air to themselves. The Prince of Wales, with the Repulse and accompanying destroyers, arrived at the naval base. In my mind, I can still see these two fine battleships sailing down the Straits as I sat on the veranda of the officers' mess. And next morning, the terrific shock on hearing the news of their sinking by Japanese torpedo bombers. To me, that spelled the end, unless a miracle happened. A large force of Japs started landing a short way up the east coast. All our antiquated biplane torpedo bombers took off to see what they could do about it. Again imprinted on my mind is the picture of them as they flew off in formation to their doom. Only two of them got back. They were no match for the Jap Zeros.

But something always turns up. Sure enough, I was told to get Enid M. and the children to the docks, as a ship was there to pick up families. She was an American ship, braving the constant raids to do this. I am for ever grateful to the crew. They did manage to get to Ceylon, although it was years before I knew they were safe.

I returned to the house where we had had such a glorious time. I felt terribly, terribly lonely. The bottom had dropped out of our lovely dream world. I wondered if that was to be the end. The amahs were still there. I had orders to stay at Seletar, so I told the amahs to stay if they wanted to, and I would try to come back to tell them what to do. It was a week or more before I saw them again, when I returned to the house with two or three other chaps to get some clothing and what food there was. The end was pretty near and, almost weeping, I told them "Everything finished." I gave them a supply of money. The house was as spick and span as ever. Waving my hand round, I said; "All yours, I no more want." Taking them by the hands, I said goodbye.

As I passed the piano, I noticed the big copy of Mozart's sonatas open on it. To this day, I wonder who is playing it now.

I had gone over to the mess a couple of days before to get a late breakfast, as a bad raid had been on, only to find it absolutely deserted. There were half eaten breakfasts lying around the tables, and even half drunk cups of tea. It was a proper Marie Celeste. There were no servants or cooks in the kitchen, and nobody in sight. There must have been a terrible panic, as everybody had bolted. I and a few wireless people were the only ones in the whole of Seletar. owing to the shelling from across the strait, the transmitting station had been out of action for a couple of days, although it we had still been working we were getting no traffic to handle. Not only Seletar Station Headquarters had ceased to function, but Headquarters Singapore had gone phut too.

I got my few lads together and told them the position. We were completely on our own, and there was nothing I could do about it. Everybody else had bolted into the rubber plantations, and they could go and join them if they liked. Not one of them left me. They said; "We will stick with you, Sir." The Japs must have known the base was vacated, because the bombings stopped for the time being. My Rover had been knocked out by a bomb, but cars were lying around for the picking. I had got a small Fiat and a truck standing by in case we could all get away if necessary. As things were quiet, I walked over to the hangars. I was amazed to find that everything had been left, including aircraft under repair. I had an idea where the people were, and jumping into the Fiat, I eventually found them. There was a tent full of officers. I told them what I had seen, and said they all ought to return to camp and give a hand in smashing everything up, as I had not enough chaps to do it. I implored them to help, but no one made an effort to move, let alone get any of the men to come with me. I made my sad way back to Seletar. They were all frightened to get within a mile of it, and perhaps they were right, because I was spotted as I got near the camp. A shell burst about thirty yards in front of me, and in the blast I went into the small ditch by the road. A few more came over, but not near enough to cause any damage. When I thought things were quiet enough, I managed to get the car back on the road, and back to camp.

The first few days of February 1942 were a real nightmare. I still had all the high grade cipher books, but nobody in authority to give me any instructions as to what to do. I had sledge-hammers handy, and had told each chap to get cracking as soon as I gave the word, so that no wireless equipment would escape destruction. I told them that all cipher books must be burnt.

My birthday was February 11th, and during the three days leading up to it I hardly slept a wink. I kept going up onto the roof to see if anything was happening close by. The oil tanks o Pula Bukum were burning, as were the oil tanks at the naval docks, and soot rained down over everything. The guns at Blackang Mati and at Changi thundered away, but goodness knows what they were firing at, as everything was chaotic.

With all telephones out of action, there was nowhere I could go for any news. I could just stand and wait. I began to feel very tired, but the chaps with me were wonderful.

And so came the morning of my birthday. I told them that this was to be our lucky day, and something was sure to happen. I could hold the ciphers no longer, so the first thing we did was to have a bonfire of them, and all secret documents that I held. I locked the two big empty safes, and buried the keys in a corner of the wall surrounding the building. We had a supply of tinned food and milk that we had scrounged from the deserted cookhouses and stores, and could have carried on for a time.

I got onto the roof for another look see, and listened to the rumblings, which were getting closer. So I decided to smash up everything. Just then, the station adjutant dashed in and said; "Good God, Syd, you still here? Somebody has just said you might be." I said; "Yes, I'm still here, Pat, trying to finish up, but what's the excitement?" "Get right down to the docks if you can," he said, "There's a boat in to take us off. I don't know how you are to make it. So long, and the best of luck." And off he went.

Corporal Wake took most of the chaps in the van, and Paddy O'Reilly, a wonderful Irishman, came with me. I told Wake to keep close behind me, since I knew the back roads. We got as far as Bukit Timor Road, when an Army sergeant stopped me, saying we couldn't get through there, as there were Japs just down the road. Saying I would risk it, I carried on, but on getting near the General Hospital, a burst of machine gun fire blasted around us, but jamming my foot down on the accelerator, I barged on. I dreaded looking round, but when I did, it was to see Wake grinning all over his face, and making the thumbs up sign. As we drove along the dock road, a bomb exploded ahead of me, but it did no harm, and we made the boat O.K. So began the string of appalling nightmares about which I find it difficult to write.

I was absolutely dead beat after the sleepless and nerve wracking days of the past two weeks or so, and it was with the utmost relief that I staggered up the gangway and flopped down on the deck. The guns roaring away from nearby Blackang Mati appeared to be keeping the Jap aircraft from coming too close to this part of the docks. Regardless of the din, I think I fell asleep just where I had dropped, because when I came to, I found I was lying under a gangway which led up to the bridge. I was on board the 'Empire Star', but this was to be no Star boat pleasure cruise. There were lots of women who were making a last effort to get away, with a mixture of civilians, army and R.A.F.

As soon as it was dark, we left harbour and set off due south as fast as the boat could make it. I continued to stay in the position in which I had flopped down, and did not feel capable of taking any interest in anything. I worried about neither food nor drink, but only wanted to rest. After the nerve killing time of those last days at Seletar, this was peace indeed. Although the hard deck must have been anything but comfortable, I slept all night, and woke up to find the sun well up, and conditions perfect, with a beautifully calm sea. How much pleasanter it would have been had we been blanketed by low clouds and a little less perfect weather.

We were soon found by a Japanese aircraft, and the horrors of the day began. The morning was not far advanced before a large formation of bombers appeared and made a trial run over us. They turned, and we all knew that this was it. We saw a shower of bombs leave the planes. Immediately, the captain shouted; "Hard a'port.", and the boat heaved off course. The bombs appeared to drop all round the ship, but there were no hits. I offered up a small prayer as I continued to hear the engines chugging away. Run after run was made, until all the bombs were finished, and the shouts of "Hard a'port" and "Hard t'starboard" were, for the moment, over. We were seeing an amazing exhibition of bomb dodging and a piece of seamanship unequalled, in my humble opinion, by anything that happened under like circumstances. The Japs must have been really wild, because they were soon back. The nightmare continued, but the stupid clots continued to pattern bomb in close formation, and the quick manoeuvring to port or starboard was just enough to leave the bombs churning u the water alongside. But every moment I thought would be my last. It was frightening to see the bombs raining straight down at one, and then see them veer aside.

The horrid business went on until the afternoon, and the Japs must have wasted hundreds of bombs around us. It had been a magnificent performance by the skipper of the Empire Star.

How glad we were when dusk came, and we felt safe. There was no chatting, and very little movement. Everybody just sat put and, I suppose, they were wondering like me how we had survived to see that night. Except for the starlight, it was quite dark, as the ship was under blackout conditions. Everything was quite still and calm, when suddenly someone on the other side of the deck started singing 'Abide with me.' It was electric. Within a minute, all had joined in. Although I had sung it countless times and was to sing it countless times more, never have I heard it sung with so much fervour and deep sincerity;

I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless:

Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness:

Where is death's sting? Where, Grave, thy victory?

I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

When I hear the mobs shouting this beautiful hymn down at Wembley on cup final day, how I wish they could have heard it that night on the Empire Star.

After the hymn, a lovely voice offered up a prayer of thanks to God for our deliverance. So ended a day which, with other days to come, was to remain in my memory with the utmost clarity, and one about which I have spoken very little.

By the next morning we had put a good many more miles between us and malaya, but we wondered whether we were far enough away yet; but as the morning progressed it became obvious that we were too far from them, and peace reigned until we arrived at Batavia.

In view of what was to happen in Java I cannot understand why we did not stay on the boat. Without any aircraft and without any arms we were little better than useless, but there appears to have been an Air Headquarters of sorts in Batavia (now Jakarta), and possibly it did have some reason for keeping us.I was tyo learn that everything was in such a chaotic state that there was nobody capable of handling this shambles efficiently, because it was soon to deteriorate into a complete and utter shambles.

We were escorted to a school which had been converted into comfortable quarters for us. We were told to make ourselves comfortable, which we did. Within a day or so I was told that I could go for a few days' rest with a Dutch planter and his wife, and although I felt that this was like fiddling while Rome was burning I did go, and had a very pleasant time with two charming people who did not survive the war.

I returned to Batavia hoping to find that something was being organised, but there was nothing doing, and I could find no one who had any idea if anything was going to be done. Boats were getting in and out of a port on the south coast, and it was hoped that we would all be got away. But things were moving quickly, and the Japs were knocking at Java.

It was difficult to get any definite news as to what was really happening, everything was so hush hush. We knew that Singapore had fallen just after our departure and, as far as I could see, there was nothing to stop the Japs from walking into Java. Although we were not being told so, that was what was ahppening.

When I had been in Batavia for two weeks with the crowd off the Empire Star absolutely nothing had been done to get us into any sort of fighting force so as to give the Dutch a hand. Being a humble Flight lieutenant, I was unable to get senior officers to see my point of view, and perhaps they were right to think that offering any sort of resistance was hopeless. For me, remembering my triaining, this was soul destroying. Although I could see no signs of it, I suppose things were getting too hot in Batavia to hold us. We were hurried to the station and took a train for Poerballingo, a longish journey down into Java, where we found ourselves billetted in the drying sheds of a tobacco factory. We might as well have stayed in Batavia and saved the loss of life which resulted from the running away tactics we were about to start.

When we had been in the tobacco sheds a couple of days a Squadron Leader appeared to collect all arms. I still had my revolver and fourteen rounds of ammunition. I was loathe to part with this and said so. He said he had come from Headquarters, and this was an order. On my saying that this was very un-English and something I could not understand, he said something about the Dutch wanting it done, and it became clear to me that the end was very close. I just cannot explain how I felt whan I had been brought up on such heroic stories as the relief of Lucknow, Rorke's Drift and the hundred and one other incidents like this in which Englishmen stood fast.

And so I became one of a hounded rabble.

We left Poerballingo for Poerwakarto, where we had just got settled in a sugar factory when panic stations broke loose and we hurried to the station and entrained, in trucks, for Garut, a place in the hills. I made no effort to get on it, but as it was pulling out I saw some of the Seletar boys waving to me out of the open door of their truck. A Wing Commander was in charge of operations, and quickly saying to him "I'll go with those chaps," I jumped in with them.

Darkness came on, and I was looking out upon a dazzling display of fireflies swarming in the bushes by the railway when terriffic bursts of m,achine gun fire began pouring through the trucks. None of my party were hit and we continued forward, but the train began to slow down and eventually stopped. Fortunately we had run a few miles beyond the ambush, and all around seemed quiet. We all jumped out, to find that the engine had been knopcked out.

Luckily there were only a few wounded, and I began to hunt around for officers, only to find that I was one of three officers on the whole train. The railway people told us that Mause was only a few miles ahead, and that we should get there as soon as possible. Carryuing the wounded, we set off along the line.

We reached mause to find it almost deserted, but someone there told us to get on and get over a bridge which was being blown up. We were told to leave the wounded there for collection.

Getting the chaps organised as well as we could, and telling them to hurry, we reached the bridge. it was a huge affair over a wide river, and there were Dutchmen shouting to us to hurry and get over. I ran past lots of chaps, taking their time over it. I dashed off the bridge and was just diving off the line when, with a terriffic roar and a blast which nearly floored me, the bridge went up behind us. How many chaps went up with it will never be known, because nobody knew who was on the train.

Things should never have been allowed to deteriorate into the disorganised rabble we had now become. We should have been made into units wqith an officer in charge who would have been responsible for a complete unit.

Near the bridge was a small detachment of Dutch troops with an officer who told us that the Japs were quite close behind us. He said we could not stay there, but I insisted that we have a short rest because veryone was very tired. It was now midnight, and we decided to rest until three a.m. There was no transport of any kind, and the Dutch told us we must carry on as best we could on foot and try to reach Chamis. That is anjother day which has remained in my memory to dream about. It would have been bad enough in England or a cooler climate, but in the tropics it was killing. Every so often I would stop and collect as many men together as I could. I would try to give a cheerful and encouraging talk, although inside me I was as low in spirits as any of them.

I almost lost the sole of one of my shoes, and could not help thinking how sensible the solid boots were, and how I wished I was in a pair.

We staggered on to the station where we had been told we should leave the railway and carry on by road. The station was deserted, so, after a short rest, we staggered on through deserted country. What had happened here? Where had all the people fled to, and why?

we had seen no Japanese aeroplanes or anything to warrant such a state of affairs until, on rounding a corner, we came upon an amazing and horrible sight. A convoy of cars was wrecked on and by the roadside, and dead bodies were strewn around. It could not have happened long before, and i could not see whether it had been done by aircraft or ground attack. It all looked very mysterious and horrible, but as we could do nothing, and without tools it was not even possible to bury the dead, we staggered on. It was getting late morning now, and lots of the chaps could not carry on. We could not stop, so we made them as comfortable as we could in what shade we could find, and saying that I would send help as soon as I could, we staggered on.

We passed no villages and saw nobody, and it was difficult to believe that we were in one of the most densely populated islands in the world. We were walkikng, for the most part, through open country. Except for the short rest at the bridge, we had now been on the go for well over twenty four hours, and I began to wonder how much longer I could carry on. We were getting very, very thirsty, and could have done witha a good meal, but the main thought in our minds was to get on as far as we could, and hope that soon we would find some civilised place.

How I wished I had a map to see if there was anywhere we could reach before the mystical Chamis that we were aiming for. I thought I was seeing things, and that I too was going round the bend; but no, it really was a car coming towards us. In it were two Dutch officers. My spirits rose as I realised that I would, at any rate, now find out what lay ahead. But after a bit of a pow-wow, they told me to get back to the railway station we had passed through, and a train would be sent for us. This was miles back now, and I wondered if any of us could make it.

So we about turned, andyhelped by the knowledge that help was at hand, we kept on our feet. We even gathered up the chaps we had left behind, and taking it as easy as we could, slowly staggered on.

Getting back to the spot where the straffed convoy was, I was surprised to find that the bodies had been removed; by whom, or how, was a mystery, as there was still nobody about, and nothing had passed us on the road. We all eventually made it back to the station, and I flopped down under a siding shelter absolutely exhausted with the tattered remains of a shoe on my left foot.

I must have fallen asleep alomst at once as I remember nothing more until something woke me up. I opened my eyes without moving, but i was soon sitting up and rubbing my eyes and thinking i was going over the edge. Within two feet of me was a pair of new shoes. I was too scared at first to see if they were real, but eventually i did, and real they were. Of all the things I wanted then, a pair of shoes topped the list. I am sure they were not there when I lay down. Calling the chaps who were around, I asked whose they were, and what they were doing there. Nobody knew anything about them, and no one had seen them before. I began to feel a bit strange, and through my mind flashed; "Somebody is looking after me." It all reeks of the occult, but if anybody had been miles and miles from my thoughts, it was mind healthy me.

I tried the shoes on, and they had been made for me. They were typical English pattern and were to see me right through my prisoner of war period, keeping solid and sound for the three years plus. The mystery of that pair of shoes, which turned up at the deserted little junction in the, at that time, uninhabited part of java caused me to meditate many times.

The train did arrive. We crowded into it and were off. It was composed of goods trucks, but I soon sorted out my little party so that we could lie down fully stretched and get some rest. We were all filthy dirty and hungry. There had been water only at the station.

It was late at night when we arrived at Chamis, but we found some activity there, and a little food was found for us. There were some senior officers who had somehow made the trip by road. Possibly, had I not jumped into the truck with the Seletar chaps, I would have come with them, and missed the noightmare of the last twenty-four hours. I was told we could not go on before the morning and, with the others, lay down beside the railway track and got some sleep.

We were called early. After having a little food, we were put into a passenger train to carry on to Garut, where there was a lot of activity and Dutch soldiery about, and then we went on. In a short while the train stopped. There was another engine on the other line which backed to our engine, and soon we were on the way back to Tasik. On getting there, we were told by the Dutch that the war was over as they had capitulated. What this meant took a little time to soak in. It was more than a little stunning, although it had been hammering at my mind that this could be the obvious end. But I had continued to hope that something would happen to get me out of the frightful merr in which I was becoming entangled. We left the train and, being told that we were prisoners of war, went to an empty school to await events. There was not a Jap in sight, and it was a day or two before we saw one. It was lovely to get a good bath and to clean up, and at last food was plentiful.